He pulled me closer and pulled his finger out. His cock rested against my lips, and the head was right on my clit. His body was so close that I could feel our breath melding together, building a bubble of heat between us that flowed over my arm.
I was lost in the warmth and the brilliance of his touch and his kiss. It was worship, plain and simple. He cared about me, and he wanted me to know that. When he pulled me closer and he pressed his cock past my lips, he was slow and gentle.
Then he slammed through, past the ridges and folds, deep into my body. He bit down on my bottom lip and slammed through to my spot, back again, then out. He held onto me with his arm wrapped around my body.
His cock was like a jackhammer, so fast and hard that I could barely keep from crying out. I was moaning now, yelling. He grunted, and sweat beaded up on my forehead. The friction of his cock sliding through, and the growing heat between us. It was almost unbearable, but it was so fiery sweet.
My cries grew faster, more frantic, and his grunting moans got louder. He sped up, driving through further and further. His hips ground against the bed sheets, slipping past just like his cock.
It was like a lightning rod, gathering all of the energy from the storm, slamming it deeper and deeper, until his tongue dove through my mouth and a flash of lightning shot out.
Raging wind fluttered over my skin, hot water poured out, and of course, electricity coursed through my bones. My whole body trembled from my head to my toes, screaming as the power built, and I started to lose sight of where I was.
Nothing else existed but heat. It spread up over my stomach, down my thighs, my knees, and into my feet. It was like lava eating through my skin, my tissue, settling in my bones where the heat started to spread. It wrapped us both in a warm glow.
When I opened my eyes, he laid on his side with his head propped up in his hand. “You’re amazing,” he said, lowering his head to kiss me.
I kept my eyes open. I had to know if, after my climax, I still felt what I felt when we were together. There was warmth, and my stomach jumped. I had to grab onto the sheets just to brace myself against the rush.
Then he pulled back, and I saw how happy he was that I was there. It just didn’t seem right. I led him on. Now I was laying on his bed, letting him stroke my hair and hold my chin. It was beautiful, but it changed nothing.
“Thank you for coming back, Mercedes. You don’t know what this means to me.”
I pursed my lips.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.” I started to sit up, but I had to brush the hand away that he still had on me.
He froze. “Mercedes...”
He panicked, and so did I. Could I really do this? Yes, I had to. If I didn’t guard my heart, it was going to get worse. I had to push past my heartbreak and find a way to stand up and get out of there. When really, all I wanted to do was let him pull me close and rest my head against his chest.
We’d fall asleep there, and he’d hold me all night. Then we’d wake up, and he’d make me dinner, and we’d be happy. But it would be a lie. I was his whore, not his girlfriend. He paid me until I was so desperate for it that I was willing to let him give it to me for free.
That’s why it hurt so much when I did finally sit up, and he looked at me like he was ready to collapse. I turned away and got up. He let me. He didn’t say a single word. Maybe he wanted to be respectful, but I knew what I was doing.
When I ran downstairs, I heard him roar. It shattered my heart and sent me flying out the door.
Chapter 35
Jake
We were laying on the bed, drinking in the moment, and I was staring into the eyes of the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She was perfect, even with her hair flaring out from the pounding I’d given her and with her lipstick smeared.
We were together, and I was ready to pull her close, let her rest head against my chest, and fall asleep next to her, just like I’d been wanting this whole time. Then she decided to run out again, and I was so angry, so fucking hurt, that my whole body shook with rage.
I jumped up, grabbed a robe, and ran down the stairs. Halfway down, I jumped over the bannister and landed feet first in the foyer. I threw the door open. Mercedes spun around and fell back. I reached for her, but she pulled away.
“No,” she said.
“You were leaning against the door crying,” I said.
She ran out into the rain, back toward her car sitting on the edge of the wraparound drive. The water was cold and thick, like walking th
rough a lake rather than rainfall. My whole body was drenched when I stepped out, but I didn’t care because she was still here.
“Mercedes, I love you.”